Decaying Wedding
by MesmerAnto
Summary: What happens when the bride needs saving from the groom, when she's dragged to the altar with no way out? When the people she loves smile at her while she wants nothing more than for the earth to swallow her whole. She tried to save the world, but who'll save her?
1. Chapter 1

Draco sat cross legged besides the alley which would welcome the bride in a few moments. Everybody was giggling waiting for the moment where Granger would appear through those big wooden doors. Malfoy wanted nothing more than to leave this place, he was surrounded by puppet-like people who repeated the same conversation like a broken record. Weasley stood unmoving at the altar, glooming with his long hair shielding his eyes.

Draco heard the awful march of "Here comes the Bride" and winced. The guests all whispered among themselves excitedly, totally ignoring that the groom would bring nothing but pain to the bride. When his eyes got used to the blinding light of the open doors, he saw her. Draco gripped the seat in front of him to stop himself from taking her away from all of this.

"Not yet", he thought.

She was shriveled against a masked stranger who kept an iron grip on her. The dragging of her heels bunched up the carpet behind her as she was being pulled onward.

The audience was smiling at her encouragingly though she did not meet anyone's eyes. Ron stared her down dangerously, his eyes tracking her approaching figure, but he did not move. The music sounded off, as if the organ was out of tune, and Draco thought it fitting for such a beautiful wedding.

Hermione was practically thrown to the altar by the stranger. She was still stumbling when the priest started speaking. All guests held their toothy smiles, and some chuckled when Weasley pulled her up, nails digging into her elbow. He didn't let go.

Draco was shimmying his wand down his sleeve.

"Do you, Ronald Bilius Weasley, take Hermione Jean Granger as your magically wedded-"

"I do," he deadpanned, glaring at the woman he was still gripping.

The priest nodded approvingly then turned to the hunched bride. She was looking everywhere except the man that she would be spending the rest of her life with. However, short that may be.

"Do you, Hermione Jean Granger, take Ronald Bilius Weasley as your magically wedded husband?"

Draco saw her trembling form and his knuckles turned white around his wand. She looked mesmerizing, in her off-the shoulder white dress. Her up-do was messy, for her hair would always be messy, charmed or not. That didn't mean it didn't look beautiful on her, with golden locks framing her tanned, terrorized face. That asshole was too close to her. He was still gripping her painfully, as if afraid she would act on her need to escape.

He reluctantly peeled his eyes of her and nodded to his partner, who was keeping his eyes down and hiding behind an over sized hat, two rows from Weasley.

Ron let Hermione's bleeding arm go and, instead raised his hand to caress her cheek in an almost affectionate gesture. She attempted to move away but he held her chin and controlled her that way. When he had her attention, he wiped the tear that was falling, wouldn't want the guests to spot that wayward tear.

"I-, she choked, I-I do." His hand dropped from her face as if those words burned him.

Draco saw their chance and jumped up at the same time as the figure across him.

"Expelliarmus!" screamed Draco.

"Stupefy!" shouted Harry Potter simultaneously.

The guard behind Hermione dropped to the ground and Ron's wand flew out of his belt. Hermione moved away from her almost-husband as soon as she could. She looked around, analyzing the situation like she always does. That's when she saw him.

"Ha-Harry is that really you?", her voice trembled with the tears she had been holding in since the fitting of this damned dress. There he was, dark coat floating on top of his skinny self, bags under his eyes making seem older than he was and his flaming green eyes. Directed exclusively at her previous captor and murderer to-be.

"You were supposed to be dead!" roared Ron. His previously chilling attitude exploded at the sight of his old best friend. He approached the Chosen One with his signature clumsy, heavy steps. Hermione took advantage of the distraction Harry provided to run. Before she could do that, an arm grabbed her.

Draco shushed her from underneath the famous cape. He pulled her close, closer than they've ever been, and dropped the long piece of magical fabric behind her.

On the other side of the altar, Harry held his ground even though Ron could go crazy and jump on him from the altar. He couldn't completely discard the idea, the old Ron would not have considered to fact that he was wandless before acting in rage. Let's see how this murderer, who wears the face of his first mate, behaves.

"Oh! I'm sorry, you piece of shit, did your plans not go as expected?" Potter kept his wand pointed up towards his the mentioned clump of dung. He couldn't help himself anymore. He had to know "Why did you do this?" Harry asked. "Dobby, Luna... Your sister!" He screamed, "and now 'Mione?"

Shit. His whole objective was to distract Ron while Malfoy helped her escape.

Meanwhile, Draco and Hermione wanted nothing more than to strangle Potter on the spot. How he escaped death for a second time was a mystery, such stupidity had to be dangerous. Draco had given the easiest job, the boy had some serious skill for screwing things up.

"Granger, come one, we've got to go around." he whispered. They both had intended to tippy toe their way directly across the altar towards Potter. Now with such an agitated Ron and such a moronic partner, Draco decided to thread on the safe side and take the way around, behind the guests.

"These people are not okay...", thought Hermione. She could spot some familiar faces, random students from Hogwarts, none of which had been in her year. However the vast majority were, from what she deduced muggles. Her heart twitched with the fear that she'd see her parents among the sea of frozen smiles and fixed stares. They were white noise who would've witnessed her on her last day alive. These poor people... Are they even conscious of what's going on around them?

"I've got you. It's gonna be okay, you're going to be okay.", whispered Draco into her hair. He had seen her frown, her quivering lower lip. He had never been one to comfort but he had nobody else to push her towards. Potter was a little busy at the moment.

"You were my best friend", Harry gripped his chest, "they trusted you and – fucking hell- Ginny was your little sister Ron!"

"It was necessary."

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth when a sob escaped her.

"Shh… I know." Draco looked in Harry's direction. They only needed to walk a pair of meters or so. "Let's keep 're almost there."

She looked at him with tears in her eyes and nodded decisively.

Harry repeated Weasley's words.

"It was necessary, huh." He threw the Oppugno spell at the emotionless redhead, calling on a chair near the groom and smashing it to him. Ron collapsed and hit his head on the floor. Hard. The sound resonated in the muggle church.

"I guess it being necessary makes the murder of my pregnant wife okay?" The Chosen One was shaking with anger. Ginny and her freckled laugh. The way her hair almost seemed to float when she was flying on her broom. How she punched his arm every time he made her laugh too hard. How she wiped his tears of joy when she told him the news. 'You goddamn monster…', he thought.

"CRUCIO!"

Ron howled like an injured dog from the ground. His fingers were out ripping his hair and his body was contorted brutally. Harry lowered his wand when Ron's screaming hurt his soul.

"Why did you do it?", he whispered. He had erased all traces of happiness for his wife, for an innocent elf and for sweet Luna, who had only ever wanted peace.

Ron's snot and tears were mixing into a pathetic sight. He was never a pretty crier. Harry could almost recognize his complaining school mate from all those years ago.

"Haa-Harry…"

"Just tell me why!" Ron flinched, so unlike the killing persona he learned to separate from his friend. These actions really were too much like him. Harry had made up his mind that Ron had had to be brainwashed or controlled by the Unforgivable spell.

But what if Ron Weasley, his best friend, had consciously done these atrocities?

Weasley was a despicable sight on the altar wheezing. "I… had to."

"Not good enough!", Harry was blinded by the tears in his eyes when he raised his wand to scream: "AVADA-"

"Potter, enough!"

Harry Potter turned to look at a glaring Malfoy shielding Hermione, who was now sobbing uncontrollably, from…him? When his heartbeat wasn't drowning the sound of reality anymore, he breathed, lowered his shaking wand and approached them hesitantly.

"I'm- "he stared.

"Let's just go." interrupted Hermione.

The three of them apparated out of the decaying wedding, the audience still and silent, whilst the groom was wheezing at the altar.


	2. Chapter 2

His hoarse screaming made the jinxed ropes around his forearms tighten to the point where Ron couldn't feel his fingertips. They were enchanted in a way that any resistance, psychological or physical added to the tremendous pain of having his arms ripped out of his shoulders.

Ron Weasley was curled in, protecting his sides which now were digging into his lungs. His breaths came in short and raspy, the man with long platinum hair looked down on his destroyed figure in disgust.

Fail in your mission again and I won't be so forgiving.

But Harry-" rasped Weasley. The blood trickled down his forehead, into his eye.

Shut. It." Lucius approached the pathetic subordinate. He placed his heavy boot on his bruised neck and pushed, crushing the younger man's windpipe. The boy's exclamation of terror was cut short by the lack of air.

"I do not give a rat's ass that Potter lived." _Again_, thought the older man, who's years were catching up to him. "You will get rid of the Order. Any objections?"

Ron fervently nodded his head side to side, eyes wide and popping out of his skull. His lips were turning blue, contrasting to his already pale skin. Lucius pressed harder, practically snapping his neck before removing his boots from Ron's neck. The pitiful boy hacked and coughed painfully long enough for Lucius to remove himself from the cellar. The Death Eater headed up to his chambers to wash Weasley's sweat, blood and skin off. To think he would be degraded to the point where he must interact in this disgusting way with blood traitors. The previous years were full of glory and worthwhile jobs. He was the reason many men saw reason and joined the Dark Lord's cause. Not all, mind you, but Lucius knew how to make those pests disappear from the face of the earth. He grew in his ranks, practically in charge of Voldemort's inner circle. If only Draco lived long enough to see him and the all the power, he had acquired. There's so much his boy had needed to learn from him and the Lord. But after the Battle of Hogwarts, his body had never been found. His son had never been able to be buried like a Malfoy. Narcissa had remained calm, much to his pleasure, no need to worry about comforting a psychopathic wife. But his legacy had been cut short. He had given her two moons to grieve for her dead son, more than enough, Lucius then made his intentions clear. They tried almost every night now, even though she wasn't always willing for it, but he managed. He was strong. She was silent.

Lucius' world had turned upside down after that damned battle; His son had died in action (he suspected by the hands of that mudblood Granger), and worst of all, Voldemort had sacrificed himself. The only consolation had been that he'd brought Potter down with him. But even that was false!

To make the situation even worse, that wench -Bellatrix- beat him to The Dark Lord's ruling. He was since then given shit jobs like torture duty and training of the wussy new-comers to her mockery of the real cause. He had been given explicit orders from her amused self to address her by the name of "Dark Duchess". Disgusting! Taking the holy name of his Lordship and twisting it for her benefit.

That crazy-eyed woman would bring nothing but chaos, where Voldemort would've brought order. He was tired and furious, right now the only thing on his agenda was a good scrubbing and a good lay. Hopefully, 'Cissa would not make matters more difficult like she tends to do now. All that screaming and struggling, utterly useless.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry conjured the _Aparate_, intended to land them at the entry of the Order's headquarters. The three of them, however, ended up on a lonely farm in, what looked to _not_ be, London. Even the sun rays were strangely blinding, a quality very rare in either England or Scotland. Vast fields surrounded the farm, the wind waving the crops like waves. Everything was very nice.

Not where they were supposed to be.

Immense horses neighed in surprise at the sudden appearance of three humans. The nauseating smell hit the three of them instantaneously. They had landed on bundles of straw, muddy puddles of hopefully water, and well…

"Nice Potter." Spat Draco, who lifted his foot from the disturbingly big pile of horse dung. Flies buzzed around the brown matter dripping from his boot. "Don't you think your cologne run could have waited until I was far away from you?"

"Shut up, Malfoy", he said dismissively. Harry looked around, avoiding eye contact with his companions, but especially Hermione. He couldn't get the image of her crying out of his mind. He had been a second away from killing his and her best mate. _I would've truly done it_, he thought nervously. Harry wasn't sure if he should be thankful to Malfoy from snapping him out of that murderous state.

In the meantime, Draco grumbled to himself on the state of his expensive leather shoes. They were ideal for attending, and eventually crashing a wedding, but it was a tragedy for these Italian talons to be in such a state. He tried to get rid of the offending brown matter by violently shaking his foot. He sent flying foulsome bits of feces in all directions, with most of them landing on Hermione's white wedding gown.

"Quit it Malfoy!" She stumbled away, unknowingly towards one of the four-legged occupants of the stable. A beautiful golden mare with glinting intelligent eyes. Those eyes, however, saw nothing but straw on Hermione's head. Her brown curls hinted towards straw yellow with the blinding sun. Their permanent wild state gave it the volume needed to make it look even more like straw.

Harry had watched the horse getting ready for its attack and extended his hand towards Hermione, shouting: "Don't, there's a horse-"

Too late.

The horse bit down on her too long curls and Hermione Granger screamed in surprise. "What the-SHIT!" Her hair was being pulled by the horse's chewing teeth, saliva dripping on her forehead.

Malfoy, who had been deeply invested in cleaning his shoes with a random rag he'd found lying on the ground, whipped his head around at those words. "Are you _mocking_ me, Gran-?" The rest of his accusation died out upon seeing the image in front of him.

It took his mind a few moments of delay to comprehend what his eyes were seeing. Harry Potter, the Chosen One, attempting to scare a horse by jumping around and frantically waving his wand. The Brightest Witch of her Age, scarlet faced in a fury, shouting out orders for Harry to be slightly less useless than he currently was. Draco thanked Salazar that she hadn't heard his previous words in the middle of all the chaos. She had droplets of drool that were too close to her eyes, a practically brown wedding dress and the rage of a thousand housewives. Not even Merlin could have saved him if she'd heard his petty accusation.

The poor mare was getting angry at these humans, who had given her disgusting straw and were making loud noises. She spat out the nasty mess, that was supposed to be her dinner and turned around. Now the horse's butt was facing the recovering trio.

Harry was the first to speak up. "I… I think we may have offended the horse." A piece of straw fell out of his hair. They silently agreed to not stay and find out how the mare would get her revenge.

That was when they stumbled, with the known cracking of the _Aparate_ spell, into the municipal library Harry Potter had grown up in. It was a fifteen-minute walk away from Number 4 Private Drive.

He had sought silence in this library when Uncle Vernon used to come home looking for a one-sided shouting match. This was also the library that had reluctantly taught him about the birds and the bees when 9-year-old Harry had accidentally picked up an erotica book. He only wanted to know more about their treasures… How could he have known that the book titled "Captain Long John's Booty" wasn't about blood-thirsty pirates? Captain Long John may have been the reason he was suspicious of unknown books after that.

Draco, frustrated by all the time that had been wasted and by the stink of his shoes, grabbed Hermione's wrist and led her to the back of the library.

The girl was resistant at first but heard her old friends' footsteps following them from behind. She let herself be guided and returned her attention to the paperback muggle novels and the hardcover manuals with no mind of where her feet landed.

How long it had been since she's sat down with a thick book, a cup of chai tea and time... It had to be when she had researched "The Tales of the Beetle the Bard", while Harry, Ron and she were hiding in the woods. Almost two years ago. It seemed like too much had changed since. Ron, for one, was dead to her.

They had stopped in front of the Classics Section, where Hermione could recognize Oscar Wilde's "The Picture of Dorian Gray" and Burroughs's "Tarzan". Harry stepped up and hushed, "Sirius Black". She liked their new password. The last one she remembered before she had been made prisoner, was Colin Creevey. In honor of all deceased heroes, young or old. She had been the one to suggest they use their names as the entry for the revolutionist part of the Order.

The books seemed to tremble when they heard Sirius' name, one of these books started getting bigger and the cover was stretching like pudding. The book was bubbling and stretching until it was the size of a door and then it hardened with the perfectly glazed cover of the classic.

"Crime and Punishment" by F. Dostoevsky was staring back at them from over their heads to the carpeted floor. It seemed the Order had embraced their flair of dramatic foreshadowing with such a book as their entrance. Their mission was and will always be to bring the world to the way it used to be, before all the looming death and fear. Hermione was personally looking forward to witnessing Ron's punishments for his crimes. Harry went in in a hurry. Draco followed Harry and Hermione came with him, still being held by the arm. His hand was surprisingly warm, and in the chaos of her rescue, she hadn't taken the time to realize that the son of one of the more disturbed death eaters was now helping her. She didn't know how long ago he'd joined the Order, or what his reasons were, and until she knew, she would not trust him in the slightest. Though his arms had held her, shielded her from seeing Ron, bloody and crawling on the altar, from being finished by Harry. She had felt safe for the first time in a year since she'd taken the undercover mission.

The followed a small hallway lighted by occasional windows on the roof. The walls were weighted by magical books and some muggle ones as well. The atmosphere was red with the sun rays bouncing off the bright red carpet. This carpet muffled their steps which preserved the precious quiet that was necessary when surrounded by so many written works.

"'Mione.", her friend's whisper of her name brought her back to reality and she looked up at him.

"Is everything okay?" she asked with a slight frown.

"Yeah, it's just…I'm sorry. About before". Harry looked at her for the first time since the altar. His green eyes shone, maybe tears, maybe not. Still, she felt an immense fondness for her best friend. This beautiful, beautiful boy would give his life for too many people. His pure love had been one the main things she'd missed ever since he'd gone missing, after his battle with Voldemort.

She couldn't help but laugh, started as a small chuckle meant as comfort for him. All her relief gushed out instead.

Harry chuckled with her and Draco sneaked a smile. But her laughter continued. It turned into a breathy whistling that made her clutch her stomach. Her emotions were unstoppable now. Tears were trailing her cheeks, but she was just so relieved. To be alive, to be with Harry, to be here, surrounded by beautiful books. Gosh, she was going crazy, but the tears of joy kept coming. It had been months where she had been stuck acting as another person, a death eater of all things. Weeks where she had only four cement walls to keep her company. That twisted wedding and then, her heroes. She was free to fight again.

Her laughter smoothed out into chuckles and then it was just a smile. She wiped her tears and her mouth, making a show of the last one.

She then continued walking with complete ease, a bit of a prance to her figure.

Draco turned his confused expression to look at a worried Potter. They both looked at Hermione, then back at each other. Just what in Merlin's name –

"Neville!" they both heard the woman's quickening footsteps thudding against the carpet.

They saw her jump on the poor sweater-wearing boy, who stumbled though miraculously managing to stay standing. Neville welcomed her into his arms, ensuring her safety just like he always did for his friends. He didn't remember Hermione being this affectionate with him, but it had been a while. He wasn't complaining.

When he'd heard the news that she'd been found out in her infiltration mission by none other than Ron Weasley, Neville felt fear first. He knew he was supposed to be courageous, just like his schoolhouse described its students, but Neville couldn't be brave when the possibility of never seeing her again was very real. That she'd end up as just another nameless corpse, recognized only by the wand the body held. Even then, one couldn't be completely sure.

He held her bony shoulders tighter against him and she melted. Her friend was okay.

Tonks had brought awful news that day, so many weeks ago. Everybody had been taken by surprise and couldn't' say anything while they processed the fact that their brightest witch was doomed. The only one who'd immediately reacted was the one who'd tormented Hermione for all those years with insults and snickering, Draco Malfoy. Nobody had expected him to take initiative in this situation.

He had glared as he declared that he was getting her back. Neville hadn't been sure just who or what had was the reason for such intense, focused energy.

Malfoy had been a trash-talker, he'd belittled almost every member of the Order and insulted more by deciding to switch sides. But he's never been a liar. So, when Draco declared that he would be saving Hermione from Ron Weasley, Neville made the conscious choice to believe the old bully.

Merlin bless Malfoy, he'd honored his word.


End file.
